Theolin
by Cinnamon Pyromaniac
Summary: Sam doesn't know what she's been doing...does he have the strength to tell her?


_These characters are not mine. None of them! No money changed hands where this writing is concerned. _

I think this works in any season from 1-7, really. This is my first story so I would LOVE any constructive feeback.

**Theolin**

It startled him, the movement in the room, but he did not immediately open his eyes. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. P2X471. Theolin. He was lying on a rather oversized bed in one of many chambers of the royal castle.

The people here were strange. They were medically quite advanced thanks to special native herbs that seemed to have remarkable and wide-ranging healing powers. But SG-1 was the first people from earth that they had encountered when the team first traveled there two months ago and the Theoleans refused to negotiate with anyone else. So instead of sending back a diplomatic team, SG-1 had returned to bargain with the very friendly, but slightly odd people.

He slowly opened his eyes and followed the figure as it moved through the room to the edge of his bed in the near-darkness and he knew it was her. Jack felt the mattress sink as she crawled toward him at the center of the bed. His mind raced. Should he try to fight her this time? He had tried last night and all he got for his trouble was Sam's dental impression on his shoulder. Like the night before, she was definitely sleepwalking and unaware of her actions and Jack felt guilty about giving in so easily and letting her do what she wished. But, truth be told, he wanted it. He wanted it as much as his sleepwalking subordinate seemed to. And he knew she wanted it, too, on some level. She was obviously acting out her dreams and it made him happy that she dreamed about him.

As she finally reached him on the large expanse of mattress, he could see her face hovering above him. It was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the large window next to his bed and he could see her eyelids drooping over her eyes in partial slumber. He gave in. He didn't know how he would eventually tell her, though he knew he had to. But he tossed the idea out of his head as she leaned in and locked her lips with his.

He had let her make love to him the night before but tonight he loved her back. Jack reveled in the taste of her lips, still sweet from the wine they drank at dinner. He inhaled the fruity scent of her hair and savored the feel of her pressed against his body and under his hands. He took delight in each small moan he elicited with soft kisses along her collar bone. To him, this wasn't about sex. It was about getting to hold Sam, to be close to her in a way he never dared hope to be. He closed his eyes as she rode him slowly and tried to wrap himself in the moment, make it last as long as he could and burn it into his mind so that when they both returned to the real world he would have the memories…even if he couldn't have the woman. Especially if he couldn't have the woman.

When they came together, it was the most powerful and beautiful thing he had ever felt. She lay her head on his chest as she came down from the high and he stroked the side of her face as her breath slowed and she slipped back into normal sleep. Jack lay on his back staring at the darkness above him and prayed to anyone who would indulge him to give him the strength to tell her about this in the morning. He couldn't bear the idea of Sam giving herself to him in such an unconscious state. He wanted her to _want_ to do it, fully awake and aware; he wanted to look in to her eyes as they made love and share the memories with her afterward. He prayed, too, that even after he told her and they solved the mystery of what made her act that way (he suspected it was something in the food but couldn't be sure) that she would come back.

She was gone when he woke up. He wasn't surprised; it was the same as last time. He had seen her leave the first time as dazed as she had arrived and was glad that, at least, she was spared the embarrassment of waking up in a man's bed and having no idea how she'd gotten there.

He saw her at the morning meal. She was smiling broadly and in obviously high spirits but yawned occasionally, letting him know that their tryst had taken its toll on her energy supply. He moved to sit across from her at the table and she grinned at him.

"Good morning, Sir." she sang, cheerfully.

"'Mornin'" he replied. And as he settled into the comfy chair, he looked up and gazed into her wide, beautiful blue eyes and a shockwave swept through his body.

"God, please give me the strength to tell her tomorrow" he prayed silently.


End file.
